


What a Day

by MythsAndMythos



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Fake AH Crew, Gavin-centric, Heist
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-24
Updated: 2016-08-24
Packaged: 2018-08-10 19:24:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7858003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythsAndMythos/pseuds/MythsAndMythos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the aftermath of a heist gone wrong Gavin has to drag himself home to face his worried crew</p>
            </blockquote>





	What a Day

Flashing lights. Explosions. Gun shots. The feel of flames licking at his skin. The shouting of police. The breeze as bullets whip past just a little too close for comfort. Water. Crackling static in his ear as the comm unit loses signal. Darkness.

Gavin Free thought he had a pretty good life, all things considered. Those things being that he was a criminal making his way steadily up the FBI’s most wanted list and reveling in it. He had a crew that functioned more like a family than a work group, friends that would and did take bullets for him, and enough money to live comfortably without risking his life on stupid stunts every other day.

But where’s the fun in that. 

He lived for the feeling of his blood pumping as he ran from the cops. He took sinister glee in watching the fear in his enemy’s eyes when they found out what crew he worked for. He could sing, and sometimes did, when perched in the backseat of Jack’s car while speeding away from a crime scene and shooting aimlessly but on target at their pursuers. His trusty parachute was always on his back for when he found a building he just had to scale and throw himself off of, nearly always landing with style. His carefully maintained knives were always on his person, just waiting to be thrown with precision into the nearest victim. It was days like those, days the crew came together after a heist with money in their pockets and names splashed across the news, that Gavin lived for.

Not so much days like these. Days when the heist went wrong almost from the start and they found themselves frantically fleeing the scene while also trying to keep track of each other.

It had all started out well, or so Gavin thought. 

They had planned to hit the bank, a lofty goal but one they had achieved many times before. Geoff had lain it all out for them, instructing them each on their parts of the plan and using his usual humor to keep them in good spirits. It didn’t hurt that he also provided the spirits, having an ample bar to pick from.

Jack was their designated driver. She had the steadiest hands under pressure and knew the city better than any of them. If anyone could shake the cops in a hurry, it was her. Of course that also meant she was a few blocks away from the bank at the time of the hit, which was good for her chances of escape, but not so good for the rest of the crew who had to find their own ways out when shit hit the fan.

Ryan was on intimidation, keeping the crowd under control, and he excelled at his job. He could keep a room of shaking, terrified people silent with just a look. To be honest, Gavin envied Ryan’s control over people, but he had long accepted the fact that he just didn’t have the build to carry a Vagabond type reputation.

Michael and Jeremy were their chaos causers, which was really unfair in Gavin’s opinion since he claimed he had the tendency to cause the most chaos. It was pointed out to him that yes, while Gavin was the master of creating confusion, those situations were usually accidents caused by his own idle curiosity and not done for the purpose of a heist. Gavin had to give in to Geoff’s reasoning there. 

That just left Gavin. His part in this whole heist was simple. Enter the bank, get the money, and get out. If everything went according to plan, the rest of the crew would keep the civilians and cops busy while he snuck through the back door and escaped to Jack.

Of course, everything didn’t go according to plan. Gavin didn’t know what happened, but one second he was scooping armfuls of cash into a duffle bag and the next the comm was crackling to life with Geoff’s voice urging him to get out and flee. 

The rest of the night was a blur to the brit. He remembered the explosions and the fire, apparently Michael had a little fun with his grenades and sticky bombs. The cops had the place surrounded but Gavin barreled through them, dodging their bullets and sprinting to the nearest car. He smashed the window and hotwired it in an instant, the skill being second nature to him at this point. If he had the time, he would have been disgusted at the minivan he found himself driving.

He heard the cops shouting at him as he led a trail of them away from the bank and the news helicopter whirring in the air above them. He somehow found himself on the bridge, overlooking the ocean and small river leading into the city. Here everything goes fuzzy. He remembers losing control of the car as his tires were shot out and feeling a small spike of fear at the sight of the swiftly approaching guard rail, which crumpled like tissue paper as he careened over the side of the bridge and hit the water. He also remembers pulling himself out of the car, head muddled from the impact and comm unit long lost to the depths of the water. Then he passed out.

Gavin woke up an unknown time later, resting on the pebbly shore of the river half submerged in the water. The sun was starting to rise, and he guessed that he’d lain there the whole night. 

He pulled himself from the river, shaking in the cool morning breeze with his soaked clothes clinging to his body making him colder. His head was pulsing and when he rubbed his temple it came away covered in dried blood. 

Just great.

He was injured and alone in the wilds of Los Santos, and his crew had no idea where to look for him. He was hungry, he was tired, he was cold, and he just wanted to go home. 

These were the days he seriously thought about his life choices. When the adrenaline’s pumping and the crew sat on top of the world, he had no regrets. It’s when the high passes and you find yourself sitting on the bank of a river, injured and alone, that you reflect on what brought you here. And Gavin’s reflection showed him a face covered in a mixture of dried blood and mud.

What a day

Gavin spared a moment to scrub most of the blood from his face before he forced himself to start moving, walking along the river bank and looking for a road. He knew the chances of his crew coming to rescue him were slim, so he had to find his own way out of this mess. From his knowledge of the city, he knew the road came close to the river on a few turns, and he hoped he was walking in the right direction to hit it soon.

It took hours, but eventually Gavin heard the sounds of nature give way to the occasional roar of a car engine as it sped by. He rounded a bend to find the paved road and he felt like he could kiss the asphalt. 

Now came the hard part. His soaked clothes had mostly dried at this point but he still looked like a ragged mess. His hair was sticking in every direction, he had dirt stains all over him, and there was still a slight trail of blood down his face he hadn’t managed to scrub off. He had also lost his gun somewhere in the confusion, and was stuck trying to hitch a ride.

When the third car sped by without even the slightest sign of stopping, Gavin knew he needed a new plan. When he heard the next car approach he veered into the road, putting himself directly into the path of the oncoming car. No one had ever called him smart. That was a lie, plenty of people called him smart. No one had ever called him sane.

The car slammed on its brakes and screeched to a halt, stopping mere inches from his body. The man behind the wheel got out and started screaming at him, getting in Gavin’s face and hurling insults at the injured man. 

Not feeling like dealing with the angry driver, Gavin casually grabbed him by the neck and slammed his face on the hood of his bright red car. The blood would blend in nicely Gavin thought absently. He tossed the groaning man to the side of the road, putting him in a position that he wouldn’t immediately be run over as thanks for the car. The guy would definitely have a broken nose and a long trek back to the city, but Gavin couldn’t find it in himself to care.

Gavin accelerated away, pushing the car far faster than it was meant to go on a road like this. He quickly made it to the city and navigated the roads to reach the penthouse where he assumed the crew would be gathered. 

He thought about the men and woman sitting inside. They were probably running through how the job had gone south so fast. They would either be shouting at each other, blaming one another for the fuck up, or shouting at the world in general for the mess that occurred. Gavin figured it would be another few hours before they started worrying about him, and another few after that before they actively started looking for him.

He pulled up to the garage and parked the car inside. They’d have to decide what to do with it later, either scrapping it or turning it into a crew vehicle. The guy he jacked it from would definitely be looking for it, he didn’t seem like the type to let it go. 

Gavin boarded the elevator and pressed the penthouse button before sagging against the wall and resting his pounding head on the mercifully cool glass. From the constant headache he’d had since waking, Gavin figured it was a good bet he had some degree of a concussion. 

When the doors opened and he stepped into the penthouse the first thing that struck him was the silence. It was too quiet for the aftermath of a bad heist. Usually there were people screaming or at least debating the poor outcome.

The second thing that struck him was a body. He found himself with a face full of hair and his body wrapped in the warm embrace of his boi. Michael was muttering something into his neck, which Gavin couldn’t quite make out, and squeezing the life out of him. 

Gavin looked around in confusion taking in the appearances of his crew. Geoff looked like shit with bloodshot eyes and a nearly empty bottle of whiskey next to him that Gavin clearly remembered being freshly purchased right before the heist. 

Jack looked only marginally better, makeup smeared and running in dried tracks down her face. Her hair was a rumpled mess and she had her own bottle of vodka resting beside her elbow with an empty glass knocked on its side. 

The mask on Ryan’s face wasn’t as much of a surprise to Gavin. Whenever emotions came up, the mask came out. It was some sort of coping mechanism that Ryan employed either to distance himself from the situation or from what he was feeling. The very fact that he was wearing it in the apartment told Gavin that the man’s emotions were running high.

Gavin looked for the splash of green hair and finally found it poking out of a blanket pile on the couch. It looked like Jeremy had constructed a nest around himself out of every blanket in the penthouse and every pillow Gavin owned. He saw his own comforter was the first layer that each other blanket built upon, and Jeremy had it clutched tightly in his fists. His eyes were just visible, peaking over the edge of the cocoon, and were staring at Gavin in wide eyed wonder.

Gavin lifted his own arms to comfort Michael whose words he could now make out as they were whispered repeatedly into his ear, “You’re alive.”

Everyone was frozen, unmoving since Gavin stepped through the doors. 

“You fucker.” Geoff was the first to break the silence and stumble to his feet. “Where have you been?”

Gavin looked in bewilderment at the tattooed man who seemed torn between killing the lad and kissing him.

“I woke up by the river,” Gavin stated, hoping someone would explain why they all looked like someone had died. “Figure I slept on the shore all night after falling in.”

Jack looked sympathetically at the lad, “Oh Gavin.” She said calmly, clearly taking his reappearance better than the men. “How long do you think you’ve been gone?”

Gavin thought, doing what mental math he could in the cloudiness of his memories. “We left for the heist around 4, I woke up early the next morning. I had to get to the road and grab a car which took a few hours so I’d say it’s been about 18 hours since we left for the heist.”

Jack shook her head and stood up, moving slowly towards the lads still embracing in the doorway. “It’s been 41 hours and 27 minutes since we last had contact with you.”

Gavin blanched at the news. That meant he spend a solid day resting unconscious in the river while his crew frantically searched for him. That explained the greeting he got from Michael and the destroyed looks on the faces of his crew.

“We saw the news coverage of what happened on the bridge.” Geoff said solemnly, voice cracking as he explained. “The guard rail was mangled and they dragged a smashed up minivan out of the water. There were some blood stains on the inside, they said no one could have survived it.”

At Geoff’s words, Michael’s grip tightened for a moment before he released Gavin altogether. 

“You scared me boi,” He rasped. Now that his face wasn’t buried in Gavin’s neck, Gavin could see that the other man looked worse than the rest of the crew combined. He obviously hadn’t slept and had barely eaten since the news reached him. His eyes were puffy and red from crying and his voice was hoarse, most likely from shouting angrily at the world.

Gavin smiled softly and rested his hand on Michael’s shoulder. “I’m here now Micoo.” 

At the sound of his name cooed in Gavin’s accent Michael relaxed, deflating in on himself and exhaustion showing.

“Alright,” Jack said, clapping her hands and making the rest of the crew jump. “None of us have slept in over 24 hours. Let me just look you over Gavin and then we should all get some well-deserved shut eye.”

The crew hovered as Jack assessed the damage done to Gavin’s head, her verdict being that it was nothing too bad that sleep would be dangerous to the lad, and they were all ordered to bed by the woman.

They each trailed past Gavin and Michael, who had refused to leave the brit’s side. Geoff patted Gavin gently on the shoulder and gave him a look that screamed they would be talking about Gavin’s unintentional disappearing act. Jeremy trailed by with a large lump of blankets in his arms, and Gavin pretended to ignore that the shorter man was keeping his comforter for the night. Ryan stopped in front of the two and lifted his mask off, nodding at Gavin and telling the lad he was happy he was alive. Jack just packed up her supplies and ruffled the boy’s blond hair in a rare motherly gesture she usually restrained. 

When it was just Gavin and Michael left, they stood together and Michael dragged them to his room. They curled up together silently on Michael’s bed, letting the presence of each other soak in as they dropped off to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> come chat with me at mythsandmythos.tumblr.com


End file.
